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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322751">Love, don't leave me longing....</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRooksandOrchids/pseuds/OfRooksandOrchids'>OfRooksandOrchids</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Le Silence de La Mer (2004)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:08:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRooksandOrchids/pseuds/OfRooksandOrchids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jeanne had opened her bedroom door to a lonely Werner that Christmas night?</p><p>AU/Canon-divergent</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeanne Larosière/Werner von Ebrennac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had thought of waiting until this story was finished to post it, but, given the state of the world right now, I thought my fellow Werner and Jeanne fans could do with something to make them smile and forget about "real life" for a little while. My love and prayers go out to everybody. We're all in this together and no one is alone. </p><p>I'll be posting the chapters I have finished over the next several nights and then the rest will follow as I write them. </p><p>The title of this story comes from lyrics to the song High by Emmy Rossum on her 2004 album Inside Out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Werner shut the door to the service entrance of the Larosière house as quietly as he could manage so as not to risk waking Jeanne and her grandfather at such a late hour. He locked it securely before leaning back against it with an exhausted sigh. He really hadn't wanted to attend the Kommandant's Christmas party, but he had done for appearance's sake, knowing that the man would have been affronted if his favorite staff officer had snubbed his invitation. Werner disliked parties and social gatherings at the best of times, but to have to feign a cheerfulness he really didn't feel these days, to have to stand around making idle conversation with his fellow officers who would all be making concerted efforts to get as drunk as they could, using the holiday as an excuse? To have to possibly be on his guard against overly flirtatious women brought in for the occasion who would be cooing over him and pawing at him? No, thank you. He had lasted approximately an hour and a half before he had made his excuses to the Kommandant and sought out Franz to beat a hasty retreat back home, his orderly grousing about missing out on all the good (and more importantly, free) liquor. Werner had promised him a bottle of his favorite schnapps in return for just shutting up and fetching the car. Franz knew what was good for him and did as he was told, cheekily informing Werner that he never let him have any fun. Werner had just rolled his eyes and stalked out to the car muttering about annoying orderlies while Franz just laughed as he started the car, recounting a funny conversation he'd overheard in an attempt to lighten his captain's dour mood. </p><p>    Werner took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. The raucousness of the party had given him the beginnings of a headache. His neck and shoulders were stiff with tension. He was freezing, too. The warmth when he'd entered the house had been most welcome. The crystal-clear night meant that the temperature felt many degrees colder than it actually was and the wind had turned biting as it came in off the ocean. He would soak a while in a hot bath before tucking himself into bed to try to sleep and forget just how alone and far from home he was on Christmas of all days. </p><p>    "You should be used to being alone by now, you damned fool," he scolded himself, though half-heartedly. "You've tried your best to reach her, but she isn't meant to be yours. You've got to stop trying. You're only embarrassing yourself. You're going to drive yourself mad."</p><p>    Right. If only it were that easy. </p><p>    Jeanne Larosière had stolen his heart and Werner knew he'd never regain possession of it again. He had tried before leaving earlier to draw her out, to get her to acknowledge what had been brewing between them for weeks. He had thought that, perhaps with her grandfather gone for the evening, the two of them could finally talk. Finally open up to each other. He had sat down at the piano and played the Bach prelude that she had been playing the night he first stepped into the house, stopping at the same notes as she had. He had told her that he loved the piece because he thought it the most beautiful, the most pure, of all Bach's compositions. What he had really been telling her was that she was the most beautiful, the most pure thing he had ever set eyes on and he was irrevocably hers, heart, mind, body, and soul. </p><p>    And right now all those elements of him ached with a bone-deep melancholy and a loneliness that cut him to the quick. He closed his eyes in near-physical pain. It was as if every cell in his body, every fiber of his being, was crying out to her, a silent prayer of desperate longing. He called to mind the memory of her sitting with her back to him, her gaze firmly on the flames dancing on the hearth. He recalled laying his hand along the top of her chair, inches from the back of her neck. Dear God, how he had wanted to touch her! How he had yearned for Jeanne to reach out and take his hand, to let him know that he wasn't alone in his love. He had wanted to fall to his knees in front of her like a supplicant before a goddess. He had wanted to declare himself to her, leaving her in no doubt that his love was true and steadfast and enduring. </p><p>    Do it, then, a small voice in his head prodded gently. Go to her now, tonight! Go up there and fall at her feet. Tell her everything that you're feeling. Tell her what your heart needs. Tell her that your life is a desolate hell without her love! </p><p>    What did he have to lose, after all?</p><p>    Werner pushed himself away from the door. He told himself that it was now or never. He drew a shaky breath, trying to steady his frayed nerves as he started towards the stairs, taking off his gloves and putting them in the pocket of his greatcoat. He clutched his cap in his hands and turned it in circles as he ascended, a nervous habit he'd developed long ago. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like a man standing on the precipice of a cliff overlooking a yawning chasm. </p><p>    He was about to take one hell of a leap of faith. </p><p>    Before he fully registered the fact, Werner was standing outside of Jeanne's bedroom. He was surprised to see a sliver of light peeking out from beneath the door. She was still awake? Was it possible that she couldn't sleep, was similarly tormented by unspoken love and frustrated desire? That the cold night had found her wanting him as badly as he wanted her? Did she long to break the silence between them with fervent words of love and devotion? Did she crave his touch, his embrace, as fiercely as he did hers? </p><p>    He had to know.</p><p>    Hardly realizing what he was doing, Werner reached out a hand and rested it on the doorknob. He strained to hear any sound that would give him an indication that she was indeed still up. Without thinking, he turned the doorknob and the unmistakeable clicking resistance of a securely locked door sounded like artillery fire in his ears. He just caught the sound of a feminine gasp on the other side of the door and the subtle shift of the light indicating movement. </p><p>    Hardly daring to breathe, Werner stood there, waiting to see what Jeanne would do. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, then another.....</p><p>    Nothing. </p><p>    The door remained resolutely shut and bolted.</p><p>    She had locked him out. In all possible ways, it seemed. Figuratively and literally. </p><p>    Werner felt the sting of sudden, hot tears at the corners of his eyes. The ache in his chest had turned into a agonizing, sharp sensation, as though he'd run afoul of an SS officer who'd decided to strike him down with one of that elite unit's honor daggers. </p><p>    Well, then. Jeanne had made herself clear. She felt nothing for him. All of Werner's romantic feelings were one-sided. She would never love him. Never want him. Never speak her soul to him. She had his heart, but he would never have hers. </p><p>    With a ragged sigh that bordered on a sob, Werner turned and took a step in the direction of his own room, resigned to yet another night of febrile dreams about the girl who he would never hold, never belong to, in his waking life. </p><p>    Until the sound of a door creaking open stopped him in mid-stride....</p><p> </p><p>                          To be continued....</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of the bedroom door opening stopped Werner dead where he stood, sending a jolt of panic flaring in his chest. Light from Jeanne's lamp flooded the dark hallway. He hardly knew what to do. Had she opened the door to give him a piece of her mind, to demand to know just who he thought he was, trying the lock on her door, rather than knocking and waiting for an answer like a civilized gentleman? To hiss a scandalized "How dare you, sir?" </p><p>    Oh, God. He would deserve that, wouldn't he? What the hell had he been thinking? He wouldn't be able to blame it on being drunk. He hadn't had more than just the one glass of wine at the party, despite his comrades' best efforts to get him as intoxicated as they were. An honorable gentleman of his status and upbringing should know better than to try the lock on a lady's bedroom door. And he did. He really did. He swore that on what little he held sacred. He mentally cursed himself for a goddamned fool in both languages he was fluent in.</p><p>    If relations between them had been strained and painfully awkward before, things were about to get a lot worse and it was going to be all his fault. He would have no one to blame but himself. He deserved whatever was about to happen to him. </p><p>    He kept his back to her, bracing himself for the consequences of his stupidity. What was she going to do or say? Why had she decided to open the door? That really was the question. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, he slowly turned around to face her. His soft blue eyes met hers and he opened his mouth to apologize for his brazen behavior and to most sincerely beg her pardon. </p><p>    Jeanne never gave him a chance to speak a single syllable. She stared into his eyes for a fraction of a second and then she seemed to come to a decision. Before Werner realized what was happening, she had reached out and seized hold of both lapels of his greatcoat and, to his gasping astonishment, more or less dragged him the few steps into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. Next thing he knew, Jeanne had him shoved up against the back of the door and she was stealing what precious little oxygen remained in his lungs by kissing him firmly. His body caught up to what was going on well before his brain did, responding enthusiastically, and he was helpless to do anything but give in with a breathless moan and kiss her back. He felt light-headed and too hot, and he couldn't seem to string a coherent thought together. He wrapped his arms around her (he'd dropped his cap somewhere on the floor) and pulled her tight to him, reveling in how perfect she felt in his arms. She sighed encouragingly into the kiss and twined her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer to him, her fingers playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. </p><p>    Werner was completely at-sea. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Jeanne couldn't really be in his arms. Couldn't really be kissing him with so much passion. Couldn't really be letting him hold her in his embrace. He was dreaming. Or something terrible had happened to him and he was near death and on the threshold of some sort of perverse heaven. Whichever it was, he would be brought back to waking consciousness any time now and left feeling beyond bereft when he found himself lying alone in his bed or lying in a pool of his own blood in an alleyway after some village troublemakers were through with him. </p><p>    But, no. He wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Jeanne really was there. He forced himself to get a grip. He had to. He had to know what had triggered such a massive change in their relationship. To go from giving him the silent treatment for months to dragging him into her bedroom and kissing him senseless? He had to understand what was going on. Had to know what had come over her. Though it killed him to do it, Werner gently disentangled himself from Jeanne's embrace and held her at arm's length, trying to catch his breath. She blinked up at him, confused, and beautifully disheveled with her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. He immediately wanted her back in his arms where she belonged. Wanted to lose himself in her. Wanted to taste again the desire in her kiss. Wanted to feel her heart beating against his own. Wanted to hear her crying out his name as he made love to her all night long....</p><p>    Get a hold of yourself, von Ebrennac, he ordered himself sternly. You're not going to run even the slightest risk of taking advantage of her! She'll despise you for it in the morning and you'll despise yourself for the rest of your miserable life! Do not make a mess of this!</p><p>    "Don't you want me?" Jeanne asked, the first words she had ever spoken to him, her voice tremulous. Gone was the confident seductress that had made him so weak in the knees just now that had it not been for the solid support of the door at his back, Werner would have been on her bedroom floor. Now Jeanne just looked uncertain, embarrassed. Like she'd just made a pretty monumental mistake. The expression on her face was one of pure dejection. </p><p>    Oh, hell. She thought he was rejecting her. What even was his life? If the moment hadn't been so serious and fraught, Werner would have laughed at the capriciousness of the universe. Jeanne looked so sad and fragile that he knew it was absolutely imperative that he not say the wrong thing. Their entire future hung in the balance, he knew. The next words out of his mouth would make or break them. </p><p>    Taking a steadying breath to help him untangle his addled thoughts, Werner met her gaze and said simply, "Of course I want you. More than I want my next breath, believe me. Just...." He gestured meaninglessly between them. "Not like this. I....I'm not sure what's going on here. I need to know that this isn't....That that kiss wasn't....Oh, God. I can't even think straight right now." He mentally shook himself. "What's changed, Jeanne? What changed your mind about me? I don't understand."</p><p>    Jeanne stared into Werner's eyes. Was it possible to drown in someone's gaze? It certainly felt possible. Her eyes were like an undertow, threatening to pull him under, draw him even further under her spell, make him fall even more in love. She broke eye contact first and retreated to sit on the edge of her bed. She contemplated the floor for several minutes. Werner let her collect herself, watching her with a patient expression, using the moment to calm his racing heart and steady his too-quick breathing. He had been utterly swept away by her unexpected amorous assault.</p><p>    But, God, had it felt good! </p><p>    "What's changed?" she asked, repeating his own words back to him. She glanced up at him again, her heart in her eyes, an affectionate smile on her lips. "Only everything."</p><p> </p><p>                            To be continued......</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Only everything.</p><p>    The words echoed in Werner's head. He must be a proper idiot because things still weren't making a whole hell of a lot of sense to him. He was going to need her to elaborate and explain it to him in excruciating detail. He blinked down at Jeanne. She looked so beautiful in that dress. No matter what happened between them tonight (or didn't, because he was damned if he'd put any pressure on her), one thing was certain: she would be haunting his dreams every time he closed his eyes. </p><p>    And he wouldn't change that for anything. </p><p>    Jeanne eventually gathered her thoughts, appreciating Werner's quiet patience. She smiled at his still-befuddled expression. He was lingering near the bedroom door as if half-expecting her to come to her senses and kick him back out into the hallway without another word. As if saying with her renewed silence that what had happened between them had been a moment's temporary insanity and they were never to speak of their kiss and passionate embrace ever again. They would revert to how they were before, and it would be as if tonight had never happened.</p><p>    Instead she said, "I caught you off your guard, didn't I, Captain?" She had, Werner noted with amusement, the nerve to sound so pleased with herself. He smiled, absolutely besotted with her, and he couldn't help laughing at himself. He was so stupidly in love.  </p><p>    "I've never heard you laugh before," Jeanne remarked quietly. The look she gave him was so full of affection that Werner felt his heart skip a beat. "I like it. You're always so serious and your eyes look so tired and sad sometimes, did you know that? I've wondered why. Wondered what you could be feeling to look like that when you think I'm not paying you any attention." </p><p>    Werner swallowed hard, amazed that she had noticed his emotional turmoil all those times he'd thought he had mastered himself and kept his feelings hidden away from everyone, including and most especially himself. "I've been lonely," he admitted softly. "That's why I, uh, tried the lock on your door. I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have. I wasn't thinking. Wasn't thinking clearly, anyway. Obviously. I didn't mean to frighten or offend you! I would never do anything to make you feel unsafe in your own home. I'm not the sort of man who would force his attentions on a woman if they were unwanted. I'm so sorry! I truly wasn't thinking. I was just-" </p><p>    "Feeling," Jeanne interrupted him, understanding him completely. "It's all right. I'm not sorry you let yourself be bold. Something had to give me the push I needed to show you how I feel. I'm not always the best at putting my feelings into words. I'm better at showing than telling."</p><p>    "I'm the same," Werner replied, finally feeling secure enough to leave his defensive position, as it were, by the door. He came and sat down next to her on the bed, taking one of her delicate hands in his, threading their fingers together. Her hand fit so perfectly in his. "I wasn't brought up in a demonstrative family, and certainly wasn't encouraged to openly express my emotions. As I said, my father was killed in the Great War when I was a child. My mother was too consumed by her grief to really care about much of anything, myself included. Affection was a stranger in the von Ebrennac household when I was growing up."</p><p>    "I'm so sorry,' she caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. "My story is pretty much the same. My father died at Verdun and influenza killed my mother when I was a teenager. You've met my grandfather. He's hardly the affectionate type. We're very similar, you and me. I think I've always known that." </p><p>    Werner nodded his agreement. "You still haven't told me what you meant by 'only everything' changing between us," he prodded gently. </p><p>    Jeanne looked up at him through her lashes. "I realized tonight that I love you." She smiled the sweetest smile that Werner had ever had anyone level in his direction. 'All the little things that you've done and said just kind of...." She waved the hand that wasn't still holding his. "When you played Bach before you left earlier, it was as if you were speaking to my soul. You played so beautifully. When you stopped at exactly the same measure as I did the night you came here, it was like something inside me just broke open. I felt so connected to you. It was so hard not to reach out to you then and there. I wanted to say something then, touch you. I wanted to be in your arms. But....," she trailed off. "I guess I just needed a bit more time. I was afraid, I think."</p><p>    "Why? You had to know that I would have been so ridiculously happy to hear you tell me that you love me."</p><p>    "Did I know? I suppose I did," she conceded, "but a big part of me was consumed by the fear that I had doomed us before we'd even begun. I mean, my God, look at how I've treated you! I've ignored you, spurned any attempt at conversation, rebuffed all your acts of kindness. I've been awful. What kind of a person does that? How could I reasonably expect you to believe that I love you when my actions have said otherwise? Most men-"</p><p>    "I'm not 'most men,'" Werner interrupted her quietly. "We're not most men and women, are we? It's not as if we met at one of those village dances and I asked your grandfather if I could pay court to you. Our first meeting was hardly the stuff of romantic dreams. You'd been living your quiet life and then suddenly you and your grandfather have one of the 'enemy' moving into your home, invading your personal space. That's hardly an ideal beginning any way you look at it."</p><p>    "I don't think of you like that. Not now," Jeanne reassured him. "You're hardly the 'enemy' that us French have been taught to fear and despise. You're human." Her expression was one of pure affection as she gazed at him. "You're the finest gentleman that I've ever met. Everything that a man should be. Everything I've ever wanted. I love you. You're not Herr Hauptmann von Ebrennac of the Wehrmacht to me. You're just Werner, the man with the soul of an artist who would rather bring beauty and serenity to the world with his music than fire a weapon. You said it yourself: the military is a family tradition and you've never had a choice."</p><p>    "But if I were not a soldier, I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now," Werner said, shifting closer to her. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be." </p><p>    "Then I guess this horrible war is good for something, after all," Jeanne replied. "I'm glad you don't seem to think it's too late for us." </p><p>    "No. Not too late." Werner reached out a hand, cupped her cheek. "I love you, my mademoiselle. Ever since that first night. You had me at Bach." He smiled boyishly. "I've never been happier than I've been since coming here. I meant what I said by the fire that time. That-"</p><p>    "That it felt like you were at home," Jeanne finished for him. "You are home, love. From now on, wherever we are together is home." </p><p>    Werner tried to speak, but he couldn't find the words to express how he felt in that precious moment, so he closed the distance between them and pulled Jeanne into his arms, claiming her lips in a kiss that he hoped conveyed all the love, devotion, and passion that she had awakened in him. She'd understand, he knew, what words were inadequate to express. </p><p>    Her heart understood his. </p><p>    Time stood still for them. Nothing existed but the two of them. Who cared about the world outside? That world that had gone so completely insane? What was war when love was lord of all? What did such trivial things as politics and power and flags and man's petty nations matter when soulmates still existed and had, against so many odds, found each other and forged an unbreakable bond? Here, in this room, they weren't a German officer and a French piano teacher in an occupied territory. Here, they were just Werner and Jeanne, two people in love.</p><p>    They finally broke their embrace when the rather annoying need to breathe asserted itself. "Stay with me tonight," Jeanne murmured. "Please."</p><p>    Before Werner could so much as raise a quizzical eyebrow and ask if it wasn't too soon in their relationship for that, a knock sounded on Jeanne's bedroom door. She and Werner froze and stared at each other for a second before they both glanced nervously in the direction of the door. Neither dared to breathe. Then a familiar male voice called out, "Jeanne? Are you still up, ma petite?"</p><p>    It was her grandfather, André. </p><p>    Werner went an alarming shade of pale and looked as though he was going to pass out in sheer terror. Was he about to be discovered by the old man? The idea scared him far more than, say, the Soviet Red Army ever could. </p><p>    "Your grandfather," he managed to croak out. </p><p>    Jeanne held a finger to her lips. "I'll handle this." She got up and went to the door. "What is it, grand-père? I was just going to bed." As if to punctuate the point, she shut off her lamp throwing the room into darkness. </p><p>    "Ah, well, well," André boomed, his words slurred, "I just wanted to let you know that I was home. You should have come out tonight! Didn't I say you should? Such a festive evening, ha, ha!"  </p><p>    Werner couldn't help himself and just managed to stifle a laugh. The old man was clearly drunk as you please. Jeanne gave him a look and made a shushing motion at him. Did he want to get caught? her eyes asked. </p><p>    Werner made an apologetic gesture. Satisfied, Jeanne returned her attention to her rambling and very loud grandfather. "I'm glad you had a good time. I'm very tired, grand-père. You can tell me all about it in the morning. Goodnight!" </p><p>    "Ah, yes, yes. Uh...But Jeanne, before you turn in, could you, uh, help me with something? I know I've had a lot to drink, but I can't figure out why Captain von Ebrennac's cap is on the floor in the hallway outside your door. It's not like him to leave his things strewn about the house. Not like him at all."</p><p>    Jeanne gaped in horrified understanding as it dawned on her. Werner must have dropped his cap when she'd practically attacked him and dragged him into her room earlier. Oh, God!   She met Werner's equally stricken gaze. What should I do? she mouthed, her expression frantic. </p><p>    Werner thought fast. "Tell him I must have come home drunk, too. That I must have dropped it!" he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. "It's the best I can think of."</p><p>    Jeanne nodded. She motioned for Werner to move out of eyeshot and opened her door, stepping out into the hallway. She couldn't let her drunken grandfather attempt to return Werner's cap to him, or even just leave it in his room. If he sussed out that Werner wasn't actually in his room, then things could get very bad very quickly if the old man put two and two together. She had to cut him off at the pass. Her grandfather was drunk, sure, but he was no idiot despite his talent for often appearing ridiculous. </p><p>    Here goes nothing, she thought, shutting her door behind her and turning to deal with her troublesome grandfather.</p><p>    In her room, Werner couldn't cope with the tension anymore and burst into hysterical, albeit silent, laughter. </p><p>    Life was crazy. </p><p> </p><p>                            To be continued...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jeanne heaved a long-suffering sigh as she took in her grandfather's inebriated state. Drinking to excess wasn't a thing André normally did, but he did love a good party. She suspected that his slightly disreputable friend, Fernand, had been egging him on. The two old gents went way back, had been friends since their army days. Apparently old men of over seventy-odd years could still keep up with the young bucks when the wine was flowing. </p><p>    Or deluded themselves that they could, anyway, she thought to herself, amused more than anything. </p><p>    André looked quite comical standing there holding Werner's cap in his gnarled hands. He was a little unsteady on his feet, his eyes glassy and face ruddy with drink. He blinked at Jeanne. "Should I see if he's in his room and give this back to him?" He dangled the cap from his fingers, nearly dropping it since his coordination was shot to hell at the moment. "He'll want it in the morning." He spoke slowly and carefully, the deliberate speech of the drunken trying to act like they weren't three sheets to the wind. To André's credit, he managed it. </p><p>    Jeanne reached out and took the item from her grandfather. "I'm sure he will," she agreed. "I'll put it on the table in the foyer. Captain von Ebrennac will find it in the morning."</p><p>    André hmm-ed. "I still can't figure out why he left it on the floor. He hardly seems the type to be so careless. He's so...uptight."</p><p>    Jeanne thought she heard a muffled laugh coming from her bedroom. Werner was probably standing with his ear pressed against her door, listening to the conversation and enjoying it immensely, wicked man. Uptight, indeed! Her daft old grand-père couldn't be further off the mark, bless him. </p><p>    An uptight man did NOT kiss the way that Werner von Ebrennac did! </p><p>    She shrugged. "What can you expect? He's a German officer and he probably comes from some uppity clan of Prussian blue-bloods that take themselves too seriously," she replied, slightly louder than was absolutely necessary, but it was fun to call Werner out for eavesdropping. He'd just smile that charming smile that drove her crazy. "I'm guessing he came home drunk, too, and dropped his cap on his way to his room. It's Christmas, after all, and he said something about an event at their headquarters. The whole garrison is probably drunk out of their minds. I'll take care of this," she indicated Werner's cap. "Really, grand-père, you should go to bed. You look...tired."</p><p>    André blew out a breath, his rotund body almost visibly deflating as the alcohol finally took its toll. He was going to be asleep on his feet in a few minutes. "You're right, ma petite," he yawned. 'As you always are. Hmm. Oui. I should go to bed, that's what I should do, yes, yes.... Goodnight, ma petite! Sleep well." </p><p>    Jeanne kissed his cheek. "You, too. Drink water when you get up. You're going to have a very sore head in the morning."</p><p>    André promised he would and ambled off to his room, mumbling something nonsensical to himself as he went. Jeanne stood and watched him disappear further down the hallway. She only relaxed when she heard his bedroom door close and the lock being thrown.</p><p>    Thank God! Crisis averted! She could breathe again. She giggled at the thought of how easy it had actually been to deflect her grandfather. Good thing he was drunk. A sober André Larosière was much harder to fool if he thought something was afoot. She'd learned that the hard way when she was sixteen and he had caught her with her first boyfriend; specifically, caught her trying to sneak said boyfriend out of her bedroom and out of the house in the wee hours of the morning. </p><p>    Imagine if he had caught her in the arms of a certain gentleman captain....</p><p>    Shaking her head, Jeanne opened her door, gasping in shock as she found herself swept up in Werner's embrace. In seconds, her beloved had her pressed up against the back of the door in a perfect reversal of earlier that night. Jeanne found herself being kissed to within an inch of her life. Lord, this man was going to be the death of her!</p><p>    She supposed she could think of far, far worse ways to go than death by passionate paramour. </p><p>    Werner broke the kiss who knew how many minutes later. He wore an absolutely adorable self-satisfied grin on his aristocratic face. "Uptight and uppity Prussian blue-blood, eh?" He held her tighter and leaned in to nuzzle at her neck. "Are you sure about that, mademoiselle?" he murmured in her ear, his warm breath on her skin sending shivers up her spine and setting her blood on fire. </p><p>    So this is what it's like, she thought, to be in love with your soulmate. To love someone so desperately and want them more than you can put into words! Jeanne clutched at her captain to keep from swooning like a heroine in some rubbish film. "I stand corrected, mein Herr." She slipped her hands up over his chest and shoulders, letting her fingers toy with the buttons and decorations on his tunic. "This uniform, beautiful as it is on you, makes you look the part of buttoned-up, prim and proper gentleman, but," she seized hold of the collar of his greatcoat and pushed it off him to join his cap on the floor where it had landed (again!) when she'd been the one to drop it when he had grabbed her, "it hides the real you. It hides your passionate nature. Your musician's soul, your composer's heart. And you know something? I'm glad it does. I don't want anyone else to see this side of you, my captain; your secret self is just for me."</p><p>    A very becoming blush stained Werner's cheeks then. "Is that really how you see me?" </p><p>    "Isn't that how you see yourself?" Jeanne countered. "Earlier tonight, when you played that prelude, I didn't have to look at you to sense how utterly transported you were by the music. I've never heard anyone put their entire being into playing the way that you did. Every note was heartfelt. It was magical and I was enthralled. You captivate me." She pressed close to him, loving the feel of his arms wrapping around her, the exquisiteness of his hard male body against her softer curves. "You didn't answer me earlier, before my grandfather interrupted us."</p><p>    "Ask me again."</p><p>    Jeanne gazed into those hypnotic blue eyes she had come to adore. "Will you stay with me tonight?"</p><p>    "Are you sure? We've only just declared ourselves, after all. And what if your grandfather were to..." Werner let the sentence trail off. He didn't actually care to think about that particular what-if, thank you very much.</p><p>    Jeanne smirked. "Let me tell you a secret: It wouldn't be the first time that my grandfather caught me with a lover." She laughed at the taken-aback expression on her captain's face. "Oh, dear. Have I shocked you? I hope the fact that I'm not some virgin with delicate sensibilities hasn't changed your opinion of me."</p><p>    "Nothing could change my feelings for you, my darling," Werner avowed firmly. "Don't ever doubt that I love you and want you. I will love you the rest of my life. I'm not a man who gives himself easily. My head has always overruled my heart. Before you, I don't think I ever really understood what it was to be in love, don't know if I even believed in love, to tell you the truth. But when I first saw you, heard you playing your piano the night I arrived.....I just....knew. You've changed my mind about love, my dearest Jeanne. I know it exists now and I crave it in my life. You've turned my world around." </p><p>    "As you did mine," Jeanne murmured softly. "I didn't realize how lonely I was until I began to love you. I hadn't known that there was a piece of my soul missing." </p><p>    "That's how I feel, too," Werner said. "At the risk of sounding dramatic, I don't think I was truly living until I came here and you filled in that void in my heart. And now I don't know how I'm supposed to ever live without you."</p><p>    "You'll never have to," Jeanne promised, closing the small distance between them again. "You're stuck with me, I'm afraid." She sighed contentedly as Werner wrapped her up in his arms again. "Come what may, we're forever." </p><p>    "Which is why there's no need to rush into anything, my love." Werner went contemplative, as a sliver of something nagged at him. He knew what it was, or rather, whom.</p><p>    Greta.</p><p>    Before things went any further between him and Jeanne, he owed it to her to tell her everything about that little part of his past, as insignificant as it was. He looked down at her, so in love it nearly hurt. They couldn't start out with any secrets between them. That wouldn't be right or honorable of him. He tilted her face up to meet his eyes.</p><p>    "There's, um, something I'd like to tell you," he hedged. "Something that it would be very wrong of me to keep from you now."</p><p>    Jeanne blinked at him. "You look so serious. What is it, love? Tell me." </p><p>    Werner led her over to her bed and they settled themselves on it, holding each other's hands as Werner began to speak.</p><p> </p><p>                        To be continued....</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
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    <p>The conversation regarding Greta was not, as it turned out, a very long or involved one. Werner had explained who she was to Jeanne, grimacing as he recounted a recent exchange of letters with his mother in which Frau von Ebrennac had not-so-subtly hinted that wouldn't it be perfectly glorious if he and Greta were to get married when next he was home on leave? Jeanne had laughed as Werner confided that he had been hard-pressed not to inform his mother that he'd rather be locked up with a rabid dog than ever marry a girl whom he'd never held in much regard, a girl that he knew beyond all shadow of a doubt only liked him for his family name and what little remained of said family's fortune. Werner admitted having only glanced over Greta's latest letter to him. He had every intention of writing her back at the earliest opportunity and cutting off their completely one-sided relationship for good and all. Greta, he declared, was never going to snag him for her husband. Werner planned to flat-out tell her that he wanted no further contact with her and she was free to find herself another impoverished Prussian nobleman to chase after. He also had several comrades who were not, apparently, that selective where a girlfriend was concerned, so perhaps one of them would have her. He'd be very happy to make introductions. </p><p>    In short, Jeanne had nothing to worry about from Greta. She was a complete non-entity. Cutting her out of his life was something that Werner knew he should have done ages ago. Her intentions had always been blatantly obvious. She had even told him that she was fully aware of the fact that he didn't love her, but that she "nurtured the hope" that he would come around to her after they were married. </p><p>    Never mind that Werner had never even bloody well proposed. It was past time indeed to disabuse Greta of her notions about a future for them. The position of his future wife was already filled and she was sitting there on the bed next to him. </p><p>    In return for his being so honest and forthright with her, Jeanne had confessed that she had been somewhat out of order earlier that night while he was out and had gone into his room. Not, she had hastened to explain, to snoop or anything so low as that, but rather because she had wanted to feel close to him and hadn't expected that they would have their moment now, or indeed, ever. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye when she'd gotten to the part about her having discovered Greta's letter and her being unable to resist having a look at it. Werner had listened, bemused. He wasn't bothered at all by Jeanne's confession of her sins. He had laughed quietly and been beyond touched when she had shyly raised her gaze back to his and told him about having then curled up in his bed, fantasizing about holding him before she had accidentally fallen asleep, only to be awoken by the distinct sound of his Mercedes pulling into the driveway. She had blushed furiously when she recounted shoving Greta's letter and photograph back into their envelope and practically flying back to her room. </p><p>    "I'm a bit sorry that my car is so loud," Werner mused facetiously. "I think you must have looked absolutely adorable lying there dreaming. I would have been delighted to find you waiting for me in my bed!" </p><p>    Jeanne rolled her eyes and slapped his arm playfully. "Wicked man! You would have scared the life out of me and ended up all flustered and sputtering yourself." She smiled. "We're absolutely ridiculous, you and me." </p><p>    "We are that." Werner shook his head. "I tried the lock on your door, a most ungentlemanly thing to do, and you waited until you had the house to yourself and crept into my room and had a nap in my bed after sifting through my mail. What a pair we are. Do you know," he murmured as he cuddled her close, "I really do think we deserve each other! My little minx." </p><p>    Jeanne gave a mock affronted gasp. "Minx? How dare you, sir?" She giggled. </p><p>    "Very easily!" Werner laughed. "Did you or did you not break one of the rules of the occupation tonight? You dragged an innocent and unsuspecting German officer into your bedroom and then proceeded to attack him in a most seductive fashion. I didn't stand a chance. I was utterly at your mercy!" </p><p>    "You poor, poor man." Jeanne moved quickly then, taking Werner by surprise for the second time that night, using her litheness and agility to pounce (he had called her a minx, after all) and maneuver him flat on his back on her bed. She sprawled atop him, and stole a kiss that left her captain gasping for breath. "Stay with me tonight," she whispered into his ear. "I need you. You've no idea how much. It's too cold in this bed without you. Keep me warm tonight." Her meaning was crystal-clear.</p><p>    Werner trailed his fingers up and down her spine, loving the shiver his touch elicited. "Are you sure? I meant what I said earlier about not rushing into anything."</p><p>    "I've never been more sure of anything. What  is there not to be sure of? I love you, and I want you. I need to be as close to you as two people can be. I need you to make me yours. I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up in the morning to you lying next to me, your head on the pillow next to mine. I don't want to be alone another night. And I know you don't want to be, either." </p><p>    "No," Werner said softly. "We've wasted too much time already." What had this woman done to him? Had he ever been so thoroughly enchanted by anyone in his life? She really was the sea. A warm tropical sea that beckoned to him to lose himself in her depths. </p><p>    Or would he find himself? </p><p>    "Then stay here tonight," Jeanne coaxed, letting her hands wander over her love's body. "Make me forget everything but the here and now. Make me forget my own name, but make me sigh yours over and over."  She nipped at his earlobe. "What sort of sounds does a very pleased minx make, do you think?" </p><p>    "Let's find out."</p><p>    And they did!</p><p> </p><p>                            *****************</p><p> </p><p>    The next morning, André Larosière really couldn't be blamed for wondering whether or not he was still drunk as a proverbial sailor who was past the point of mere intoxication and into the hallucinating stage of things when he hauled himself downstairs and into the kitchen and there beheld a very interesting sight. </p><p>    Because surely he couldn't be seeing what he thought he saw; couldn't possibly be seeing his granddaughter in the arms of their resident German soldier as the pair stood by the door. Surely Jeanne and Captain von Ebrennac weren't actually locked in a passionate kiss that would teach the local teenagers a thing or two. André watched, his jaw nearly on the floor, as Werner finally disentangled himself from Jeanne, who wasn't at all keen to let him go. </p><p>    "I have to go!" Werner told her with a laugh, seizing hold of her wandering hands. "I'm already late. I'll see you tonight, my minx!" </p><p>    "Or you could always come home for lunch," Jeanne suggested as she finally let go of him. "I don't have any lessons this afternoon, so I'll be here. You'll be starving."</p><p>    "For food or for you?" Werner's gaze was smouldering.</p><p>    "You, mein Herr, are terrible! Who would have thought it?" Jeanne kissed him one more time, and rather than shoving him up against the door to have her way with him, she opened it and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Go on, then. Off to work with you." She handed him his cap. "Just one more thing before you leave me here all on my own missing you."</p><p>    Werner smiled down at her. "What's that?"</p><p>    "I love you."</p><p>    "I love you, too. I'll try to come home for lunch, if I can. I have several staff meetings today, so I can't make any promises."</p><p>    "Fair enough."</p><p>    With one last fond look, Werner slipped out the door, leaving Jeanne grinning like a fool as she watched him leave. She didn't turn around until the Mercedes had disappeared from sight. She laughed in pure joy. God, how she loved that man! So blissfully happy was she that she felt no trepidation or embarrassment when she finally noticed her grandfather standing in the kitchen entryway. So what if he had seen and heard her and Werner? He'd best get used to it!</p><p>    "Good morning," she said as though it were every day that her grand-père caught her bidding an affectionate goodbye to her lover as he walked out the door. It was certainly going to become an everyday occurrence. "How are you feeling?" She thought her grandfather looked to still be experiencing the effects of last night's revelry. </p><p> André blinked at her. "Did I....?" He gestured meaninglessly. "I, well...." He coughed awkwardly. "I could have sworn......" </p><p>    "Yes, grand-père. You did see me kiss the man I love. While you were out last night, Werner and I had a long talk about our feelings for each other. We couldn't fight it anymore. We love each other." She took a deep breath before continuing. "We know it won't be easy, but nothing worth having is. I hope that you can accept us. I love him, grand-père, and he loves me. It's as simple as that."</p><p>    André tilted his head and regarded his granddaughter silently for a handful of seconds. He saw the certainty in her eyes and heard the conviction in her voice as she spoke about the German officer whom Fate had dropped onto their doorstep. It was a shock, of course, but Jeanne was a grown woman and who was he to tell her that she couldn't have the person who made her happy? Who was he to judge? </p><p>    "I hope you and the captain will be very happy together, ma petite. He's a good man."</p><p>    Jeanne beamed and kissed her grandfather as she swept past him out of the kitchen. "Thank you, grand-père. That means everything to hear you say. Werner will be glad to know that you aren't opposed to us being together."</p><p>    "I'll give him my blessing when he gets home," André promised. "In the meantime, I'm going back to bed. That wine went to my head, hehe!" </p><p>    Jeanne laughed. "I know the feeling, grand-père. I know the feeling." </p><p>    If being in love was a form of drunkenness, she hoped to never sober up! </p><p>    Life was so very, very beautiful!</p><p> </p><p>                                The End.</p>
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